Another classic Franco-Belgian series in ligne clair style familiar to fans of Tintin, Pilote, and Spirou (or The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, wAnother classic Franco-Belgian series in ligne clair style familiar to fans of Tintin, Pilote, and Spirou (or The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, which takes obvious cues from Adèle). We have the beautifully rendered backgrounds, with especial care and attention paid to architecture and vehicles, and in the foreground, the people, who are evocative, cartoonish caricatures. As Scott McCloud points out, this is a very effective technique, as it combines the immersive realism of the world with relatable, symbolic characters.
Unfortunately, some of the characters are not quite idiomatic enough, and we sometimes get lost in a sea of mustachio'd men in bowlers and spectacles who are not immediately easy to differentiate. This book is also reminiscent of Tintin in a less appealing way than the art: like early Tintin, it takes itself rather lightly, and the plot, structure, and characterization leave much to be desired. The constant disguises, twists, betrayals, flashbacks, and exposition make a simple adventure needlessly complex. One of the characters even jokes that the plot is 'too convoluted to make a good novel', suggesting that Tardi is doing it deliberately, but I'm not sure why an author would choose to purposefully weak such havoc on their own structure.
I think it could have worked if it had been more madcap, like De Crecy, placing action and wit above all. Sure, it could work to put a straight, driving story into the middle of such convolutions, but there needs to be a central thread to be followed, and the twists should be there as jokes or absurdities set around the main plot, not as the central focus. By the third time some character pops in to explain through flashback what really happened earlier, we've lost all focus.
Adèle herself is particularly lost in the muddle here, neither villain nor hero, motivations and relationships undefined. However, even by the next volume, we can see Tardi beginning to settle in to a more serious, dark tone, and beginning to find a voice that works.
Another classic Franco-Belgian series in ligne clair style familiar to fans of Tintin, Pilote, and Spirou (or The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, wAnother classic Franco-Belgian series in ligne clair style familiar to fans of Tintin, Pilote, and Spirou (or The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, which takes obvious cues from Adèle). We have the beautifully rendered backgrounds, with especial care and attention paid to architecture and vehicles, and in the foreground, the people, who are evocative, cartoonish caricatures. As Scott McCloud points out, this is a very effective technique, as it combines the immersive realism of the world with relatable, symbolic characters.
Unfortunately, some of the characters are not quite idiomatic enough, and we sometimes get lost in a sea of mustachio'd men in bowlers and spectacles who are not immediately easy to differentiate. This book is also reminiscent of Tintin in a less appealing way than the art: like early Tintin, it takes itself rather lightly, and the plot, structure, and characterization leave much to be desired. The constant disguises, twists, betrayals, flashbacks, and exposition make a simple adventure needlessly complex. One of the characters even jokes that the plot is 'too convoluted to make a good novel', suggesting that Tardi is doing it deliberately, but I'm not sure why an author would choose to purposefully weak such havoc on their own structure.
I think it could have worked if it had been more madcap, like De Crecy, placing action and wit above all. Sure, it could work to put a straight, driving story into the middle of such convolutions, but there needs to be a central thread to be followed, and the twists should be there as jokes or absurdities set around the main plot, not as the central focus. By the third time some character pops in to explain through flashback what really happened earlier, we've lost all focus.
Adèle herself is particularly lost in the muddle here, neither villain nor hero, motivations and relationships undefined. However, even by the next volume, we can see Tardi beginning to settle in to a more serious, dark tone, and beginning to find a voice that works.
As with all the early Tintin books, we're getting roughly the same plot over and over: Tintin is visiting a foreign country where he runs afoul of a cAs with all the early Tintin books, we're getting roughly the same plot over and over: Tintin is visiting a foreign country where he runs afoul of a criminal organization doing something wacky. He tracks down various clues as a couple of crooks try to kill him. Each time, he miraculously survives by pure luck. Then he beats a whole roomful of large, armed men to a pulp and escapes in a stolen aeroplane.
All the plot points are convenient and interchangeable, built on haphazard coincidences and luck. So, while Tintin is always charging forward, he isn't always a particularly active character, since he's not as much planning and overcoming as much as blundering through.
I know it's old and I know it's juvenile, but comparing it to Winsor McCary or Carl Barks, it's pretty tame. The backgrounds are lovely, and the character design is getting stronger--I love the ligne claire look--but it's not standing out against the competition, yet.
The whole premise of this one with the giant floating meteor made of a 'new element' that somehow causes all living things to grow--except Tintin and Snowy--is so nonsensical it was hard for me to know what to make of it. Here's a story that, on one hand, is about multinational drug cartels, where the hero wanders the streets of European cities with a drawn pistol braving very real dangers. The contradiction between these two extremes makes the tone of the work rather difficult to make sense of.
If it were the Little Prince or something where the universe is surreal and dreamlike, it would be easy to accept, but the odd combination seems to be at odds with itself. Even in Barks' work, where the characters are cartoon animals, there is a greater sense of narrative unity in what we are meant to take seriously as plot and what is light fun.
Another odd entry as I wait for Herge to hit his stride.
Like the last volume in the series, this one is another flop bearing no real resemblance to the themes, characters, or style of the later series. The Like the last volume in the series, this one is another flop bearing no real resemblance to the themes, characters, or style of the later series. The whole thing is a haphazard cartoon filled with slapstick violence starring pugnacious jerk Tintin and his bad-joke-making dog.
Yeah, the treatment of Africans and big game hunting make H. Rider Haggard look tame and responsible in comparison, though I find it hard to argue that the stylized drawings of the Africans are racist, since it's not like the European characters are examples of detailed realism. I mean, when your main character's head is a mouthless blob with two pseudopods and tiny holes for eyes, it's hard to complain that other characters in the book are too simplistic.
But yeah, another read that's only interesting to completists and cultural historians.
It can be an odd experience to look at the early work of an author (and artist) who later proves to be innovative and masterful. The work here is sou It can be an odd experience to look at the early work of an author (and artist) who later proves to be innovative and masterful. The work here is sou rough, the plotting so silly, and the characters unrecognizable to fans of the later series.
But then, no artist emerges into the world fully formed, and even Moebius had his awkward stage. In this fisrt story, Tintin himself is less the clever, charming figure of the later books. Much like Mickey Mouse in Steamboat Willie, the character starts off as an unpleasant prankster eager to fight anyone he meets.
The story, itself is very goofy and cartoony, full of pratfalls, one-liners, fights, and spectacular crashes. Guns and bombs are not frightening things, but tools of slapstick.
The book also has none of the painstaking research which marked Herge's later work. His depiction of Russia is simple propaganda with the Soviets as overblown villains. There is no attempt to look at any real cultural differences.
However, there are some glimmers of possibility here. The clean lines and motive sense of gesture is present, and the influence of American cartoonists like McCay and McManus are very clear. But anyone looking for a genuine Tintin story is not going to get one, here. The only reason to read this volume is for completeness' sake, for those who are curious to see the sketchy, awkward beginnings of a series that became a worldwide phenomenon.
Moebius is unquestionably a great artist, but his visions as a writer often suffer from an overabundance of Frenchiness, which I feel is best typifiedMoebius is unquestionably a great artist, but his visions as a writer often suffer from an overabundance of Frenchiness, which I feel is best typified by the introductions to his collections where we get psudointellectual wackiness like this account of where he gets his ideas from:
"One finds things on the beach. Things dragged up from the depths, and casually abandoned by the sea, almost as a peace offering to its eternal opposite, the land."
Such overbearing attempts at deep symbology always feel forced to me, and they distract from the story, itself. I tend to think Moebius is at his worst when he is trying to deliver some grand spiritual or social message about The Great Truth, since it's hard to do that without coming off as pretentious and vague, as in the conclusion of L'Incal.
But this story takes a different tack, focusing more on humor than on Big Questions. The humor is subtle and pervasive, and the sci fi story behind it fun and fast-paced, so that I began to imagine what it might have been like if Moebius had illustrated a version of the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy--which, judging from this book, would have been amazing.
The visuals were some of the most consistently beautiful and wondrous that I've ever seen in a comic, including Moebius' other works, which are myriad and masterful. The use of psychedelic color and chiaroscuro was always inventive, clear, and expressive, though some of the highlighting on the characters was a bit sketchier, and stood out from the overall style a bit.
All in all a delightful piece, and proof that Moebius never sat on his laurels, but improved and refined with every book he drew.
J.G. Keely
>
Books:
euro-comics
(74)
Loading...
